


Cold and Cookies

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [46]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Baking, Cookies, M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul, a cold and chocolate chip cookies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold and Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following sweet prompt posted upon tumblr’s otpprompts: [Person A of your OTP is baking chocolate chip cookies for Person B, who is sick. Person B can smell some of the batch that’s in the oven and gathers the strength to walk over to Person A in the kitchen. Person B wraps their arms around Person A’s torso and leans forward to look at the cookies that Person A is putting chocolate chips on, but as soon as they do, Person B sneezes. BONUS: Person C starts freaking out about the myriads of germs that are possibly on the cookies and insist that the cookies be put in the oven longer/baked at a higher temperature. What happens after that is up to you.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/128219643328/person-a-of-your-otp-is-baking-chocolate-chip)

****

Paul shifted uncomfortably in bed, eyes cracking open slowly to stare up at the ceiling. He coughed weakly, but the rattle in his chest that had plagued him for three days had started to recede and his throat no longer felt quite as sore as it had been. He swallowed experimentally, and whilst there still was some remaining tickly-scratchiness, he found that the motion was easier than it had been. He sighed, and reached for a tissue, to blow his nose, the noise loud and elephantine in the dimness of the bedroom. 

Paul had been suffering from a bad head-cold for three days, caught whilst performing in the rain on the last night of Rammstein’s most recent tour. Almost as soon as he’d returned to the apartment he shared with Richard, he’d taken to bed, feeling too ill to do much more than sleep and eat the occasional bowl of chicken soup that Richard had insistently pressed upon him. Paul had complained about the stuffiness and the general feeling of illness, and the inability to taste any of Richard's culinary offerings, yet Richard had complained louder still, stating that Paul should still eat regardless; Richard’s concern overrode Paul’s illness related grumpiness. Paul, despite his grouchiness, had felt touched that Richard was taking the time and the effort to look after him, often stopping in to check up on him, and to make sure that he wasn’t wanting for anything. He’d even bothered to buy a tub of Paul’s favourite ice cream as an unexpected treat one day, and whilst Paul had still not been able to taste it, the cooling sensations did wonders for his burning throat and chest, and he appreciated Richard's efforts to cheer him up. 

He turned over in bed, and threw his soiled tissue into the already overflowing waste basket, and as he did so, he thought he caught the first whiff of cooking. He frowned in surprise, sitting up carefully to scent at the air. He could smell sugar, butter and the heady scent of chocolate wafting through the air. A smile began to tug at Paul’s lips, as he swung his legs out of bed; he managed to stand, but while he still felt shaky and weak, he found that he could at least put one foot in front of the other, and totter his way into the kitchen.

Richard, as expected, was standing near the oven, back turned to the door, an apron tied firmly about his waist. A bowl was just seen jutting from his side which he stirred occasionally, before plopping great dollops of cookie mixture into a baking tray. Paul could see, and smell more strongly, a batch of cookies in the oven, already starting to brown a little in the heat. He made his way towards Richard, legs starting to shake more now, and he‘d almost reached Richard‘s side when the other man looked up in surprise, eyes wide yet impossibly soft with his concern when he heard the shuffle of Paul‘s socked feet against the carpet., 

“Hey, Paulchen, what are you doing up?” Richard asked. “Go back to bed. You‘re not well.”

“No,” Paul said, and whilst his voice was still thick with snot and with phlegm, it was a little clearer than it had been. “I‘m not, but I‘m feeling a little better, now.”

He leant up against Richard's side, and slid his arms around the other man‘s waist, before he rested one heated cheek against the soft curve of his partner's shoulder. Richard tutted and rested one hand, mercifully clean and free from cookie dough, upon Paul‘s cheek. 

“Honestly, sweetheart, you should go back to bed; you‘ll make yourself ill again,” Richard said. “Don't make me order you about, Landers.”

“I wouldn‘t mind being ordered about,” Paul objected with a smile as he nuzzled against Richard's shoulder affectionately. “You know I like it when you take control.”

”Hmm,” Richard said, before he gave a deep chuckle. “Maybe later, y’know? I’ve gotta finish these first, though.”

He pointed to the remainder of his cookie dough with a sticky spoon.

“Hmm,” Paul said, but he refused to move away from the other man.

He felt too comfortable snuggled up against the body warmth of his lover; despite his earlier concerns, Richard seemed content to continue supporting him, as he turned his attentions back to the cookie dough and spooning it out upon the baking tray. 

“They do smell nice,” Paul offered, to break the silence, despite the fact that it was a contented one.

“You can smell them?” Richard asked, in surprise. “You must be getting better.” 

“Hmm, yeah,” Paul said, as he turned his head slightly to press a kiss against the swell of Richard's shoulder.

Richard huffed at the tender contact, as he spooned out the last dollop of dough upon the sheet, with a satisfactory little thump. Paul saw a frown lowering the other man’s brows, suddenly, before Richard moved slightly, apologetically to get the package of chocolate chips from where he’d abandoned it earlier. Paul noticed that the package was almost empty, only a small amount of chips lining the bottom of the package.

“I haven’t put enough in,” Richard said, by way of explanation, as he tipped some of the small, milky brown chips into the palm of his hand. “I know you like a lot of these little buggers in your cookies.” 

“I do,” Paul said, on a the end of a breathless inhalation.

He could feel the beginnings of a sneeze forming, a scratchy and all too familiar tickly feeling building its way up from the back of his throat and into his nose. He barely had time to turn his head partially away, before he sneezed, loudly and at great length, explosive noises seeming to fill the entirety of the room.

“Jesus Christ, Paul, that’d better not have gone on the bloody cookies, y’know,” Richard said, in vaguely irritated alarm. “Just so you know, this entire tray is yours now.” 

“Shut up, I couldn’t help it. I’m still not completely well,” Paul said, as he turned, what he hoped was a pathetically pleading look upon his lover.

Richard sighed, and despite his frown, a smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Poor baby,” he said, with only the faintest hint of sarcasm colouring his tone and making it warmer. “You’d best get yourself to bed.”

“Kiss?” Paul asked, pathetically, as he pursed his lips at Richard. 

“You really expect me to kiss your snotty little face, now?” Richard asked, and amusement warmed his tone still further than from before. “I might get ill.”

“Didn’t stop you from kissing me yesterday,” Paul pointed out.

Richard had to laugh at that; Paul still felt the insistent presses of Richard’s mouth against his own, and the fevered, needy cuddles that the other man had wrapped Paul up in during the night.

“If you promise to go to bed, directly afterwards, then I shall bestow a kiss upon your snotty lips,” Richard said, genuine laughter breaking free from his mouth as his frown disappeared. 

“Be serious; I’m not a child,” Paul objected.

“I know, darling, but sometimes you act like one,” Richard said, before he dotted a kiss against Paul’s mouth.

“Look who’s talking, and I want a proper kiss,” Paul said. “That wasn’t one.”

Richard huffed a sigh and Paul could feel the warm passage of the other man’s breath tickling across his cheek, smelling faintly of chocolate. That at least explained why almost the entire package of chocolate chips had all but gone; Richard had just as much of a weakness for them as Paul himself did. 

“You’re incorrigible, but I love you,” Richard said, as he pressed a wet and warm kiss against Paul’s waiting mouth. “Now get yourself to bed, post-haste, and I mean it. That’s an order.”

“Oh, an order. Yes, please,” Paul said, with a wicked grin thrown over his shoulder. “And bring some of your cookies when you come through. I think the first batch is almost done.” 

“Who says I’m coming through?” Richard asked, with an arch lift of his eyebrow at Paul.

“I do and that’s an order,” Paul said, facetiously, before he left the room mere seconds before Richard flung the sticky tea towel at him.

He barely had time to close the door, before the towel thumped harshly against it and Richard's voice called faintly through the wooden barrier.

“Lucky miss, Landers, lucky miss,” he said.

Paul’s only response was to laugh.

****

Paul was snuggled up in bed when Richard made his way through some time later, carrying a tray in his hands; on the tray was perched a plate filled with some of his cookies, and a couple of mugs of steaming hot coffee. Paul struggled to sit up as Richard set the tray in his lap, before he slid beneath the covers, still fully clothed. Paul felt the warm press of his lover’s lips against his temple and he turned a grin toward Richard, even as he plucked one of the still warm chocolate chip cookies from the plate. He twirled it expertly between his fingers, savouring the smell of it, before he finally lifted it to his mouth and pulled off a huge chunk between his teeth. He chewed, and swallowed, making a pleased sound as the warm chocolate slid down his throat, perfectly complementing the vanilla of the cookie.

“Nice?” Richard asked, a distinct chuckle clear in his tone. 

“You know it is,” Paul said, as he turned to stare at Richard at close range. 

“Hmm,” Richard grunted, and although the sound was noncommittal, he looked pleased by Paul’s veiled compliment.

Paul always had enjoyed Richard's cooking, and appreciated it even more when the other man took the time out to make his favourite dishes. He almost contemplated feigning illness for longer, just to have Richard as his personal chef for a lot longer. He knew, however, that the other man wouldn’t be fooled and would simply refuse to keep feeding him until Paul was left with no choice but to rise from his fake sick bed. 

Paul settled back a little against the pillows propped behind his back, and took another thoughtful chew. He soon finished the first cookie and reached for another, fingers brushing against Richard's as his lover also took his second cookie. They exchanged smiles, and took their cookies, continued to eat in silence. The ticking of the clock was the only sound to be heard, until a few moments later, when the beeping of the oven cut through the air, signalling the end of the second cookie batch’s cooking time. Richard sighed, and slid from beneath the covers, before he made his way across the room again. Paul watched his lover’s progress with interest, eyes resting firmly upon Richard's retreating rear; he smiled when he became aware of Richard's glare over his shoulder.

“Stop ogling,” Richard said, but he sounded amused more than annoyed. 

“I will not,” Paul replied, raising his gaze only briefly to meet Richard’s eyes. 

Richard laughed at that and left the room. Paul could hear the sounds of the other man moving about the kitchen, as he set the cookies out to cool. Paul was on his third cookie by the time that Richard returned, to slide beneath the covers again. Richard took another biscuit and consumed it slowly, seeming to savour every bite, dunking every second bite in his coffee. Paul lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip; Richard always knew how to make the coffee just the way that he liked it, sweet and strong, filled with plenty of cream instead of milk. 

“God, this is gorgeous,” Paul said, appreciatively, over his coffee.

“Well, don’t have an orgasm over the coffee,” Richard said. “Only I’m allowed to give you those.”

“I wish you fucking would already,” Paul groaned. “I feel like I’ve got a serious case of blue balls or something here.”

“You’ve been too ill for that,” Richard laughed. 

Paul merely frowned and took another sip of his coffee; he didn't protest when Richard took the tray away when it looked in danger of being disrupted by Paul’s movements, to spill to the floor with the remainder of its entire sweet contents. They continued to drink in companionable silence, before Paul finished and set his mostly empty mug aside on the bedside table. He settled back against the pillows contentedly, all too aware of Richard's worried scrutiny.

“I’m fine, Reesh,” Paul assured him. “Just getting more comfortable.”

“Hmm,” Richard said, but even that small, barely articulate noise sounded unconvinced. 

Paul stared up at the ceiling, one hand resting lightly against his lean belly, and he felt the bed moving when Richard set his mug upon the his own table with a loud and distinctly Richard-like noisy clatter. He felt the bed move again, as Richard shifted closer to him, one hand sliding over Paul’s abdomen, to curl around his side. He smiled at the first tickling brush of Richard's lips against his neck, but the other man seemed in no hurry to do anything more than dust teasing kisses against Paul’s neck and jaw. 

“I’m glad you’re getting better,” Richard said, against Paul’s throat.

“Me, too. I hate being ill,” Paul said, as Richard's kisses travelled their way up against his cheek and temple.

Richard kissed Paul’s eyelids next, and the top of his nose; Paul noticed that the other man seemed to be purposefully avoiding his mouth. He sighed, a little disappointed, and even a little hurt that Richard didn’t want to kiss him properly, and his hurt was kissed away by the firm press of Richard’s mouth against his lips. Paul gave himself to that kiss, feeling only slightly guilty that he was putting his own lustful needs before the potential health of Richard; his thoughts were soon stripped away by the motion of Richard's hand down his abdomen, fingers soon sliding beneath the trapping elastic of Paul’s waistband. 

Paul gave an encouraging hum against Richard's lips, spread his legs a little wider as the other man’s hand slipped into Paul’s boxers, and curled gently around his cock. At first, Orchard didn’t move, until Paul made a complaining noise deep in his throat, prompting a corresponding laugh to spill from Richard's mouth. In time, Richard began to move, fingers sliding and stroking easily in heated lines across Paul’s cock, and Paul moaned, eyes closing as his hips arched up from the bed to rub through the circle of Richard's questing fingers.

“Hmm, so eager,” Richard said, a laugh rumbling deeply in his chest.

Paul couldn’t speak, breath and voice stolen by the feel of Richard’s fingers stroking against him and he arched back against the pillows, as he spilled out over Richard's questing fingers and palm, deep groans rumbling in his chest, which led to painful coughs and wheezes that rattled in his chest. Richard drew his hand away slowly, even as he stared with soft-eyed concern at Paul.

“You okay?” Richard asked.

Paul nodded and waited for the coughing fit to pass, before he smiled weakly at the other man.

“I’ll be fine. I think it’s time for my medicine,” he replied. “There’s a new bottle in the bathroom. Be a love and fetch it for me?”

Richard nodded, and slid away from the other man, to head for the bathroom. Paul could hear the other man clattering around in there, washing his hands and drying them, before he returned with the requested bottle of medicine. Paul nodded out his thanks, as he took the bottle from the other man and poured himself a dose of it; he felt Richard watching him as he knocked the dose back, before he settled the bottle aside next to his empty coffee cup. 

“Mind if I sit with you for a while?” Richard asked.

“Like you really need to ask,” Paul snorted, and Richard did so, sliding beneath the covers again.

Paul did little more than lay there for a while, however, until he felt recovered enough to get up, and to change his soiled underwear. He returned to bed, to find that Richard had started to read in his absence, glasses perched upon the end of his nose as he did so. Paul smiled at that; he’d always liked seeing Richard in his glasses; he thought it made the other man look refined, intelligent, and more than a little sexy. He briefly kissed the other man’s cheek as he settled beneath the covers again, before he accepted another book from Richard's hand.

“Thanks, Reesh,” Paul said, in the face of Richard’s amused little smile. 

Paul smiled in return, before he turned his attentions upon his book and began to read, Richard a warm and comfortably solid presence beside him.


End file.
